


Like a Burning Building

by Always_IKnow



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Dark, Dissociation, F/M, Hate Sex, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Violence, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-20
Updated: 2020-01-20
Packaged: 2021-02-18 22:01:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22333867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Always_IKnow/pseuds/Always_IKnow
Summary: There are plenty of ways to react to traumatic events. Not all of them are good ideas.
Relationships: Dukat/Kira Nerys
Comments: 6
Kudos: 27





	Like a Burning Building

**Author's Note:**

> Proceed with caution on this one please, heed the tags.

Under no circumstances will she stay. There's a script for how this goes, painstakingly laid out with hushed threats and hollow rationalizations. It feels good the way only explosions and natural disasters do. She's the plasma storm and she can still enjoy the delusion that she's okay with this. Show up in his quarters, don't say a fucking word, don't think about what you're doing, and get out before you can remember that he's a monster. 

During the bad nights she wonders exactly what's so twisted in herself to keep her coming back for more. She's 15 again and shaking while trying to steady the rifle, her tongue poking incessantly at the cavity on her back tooth. She is not a ghost like all the others. The pain rips through her jaw and her hands relax as a Cardassian head fills the phaser's sights. Her hands aren't shaking anymore.

"How lovely to see you again, Nerys," he's smiling but it feels like a punch to the gut. 

"Don't talk."

She shoves him into the bulkhead and he laughs. He laughs and laughs like he always had. She wonders how he'd laugh after she ripped his throat out while she's tearing off his uniform. Bloody and broken, nothing more than a body and nothing left to see behind his eyes. Destroyed. His hand brushes her cheek and she bites down hard. 

He instinctively jerks his hand back and resists the impulse to strike her. She was a child acting out, and you do not reward tantrums with your attention. Composure and rationality in the face of poor behavior is the only way to guide them to maturity. It's his responsibility not to be reactionary. 

She slaps him across the cheek and he hits her back harder.  
It's only mildly concerning when she pushes him onto the bed and her eyes are glassy. 

All these years later and she was still poking at the cavity. It hurts when she shoves herself down onto his cock, but everything about Dukat hurts anyway. Her hipbones slam into his with enough force to bruise and that hurts too. She wraps her hand around his throat while riding him. When her fingers tighten their grip and she moans out loud suddenly the bomb worked and he wasn't here and couldn't be here ever again. Dead eyes and mass graves and more blood everywhere and it feels so fucking good not at all like that time in the camp not at all like that not at all -- 

When she orgasms she thinks she can see oblivion.

"You've left me rather...unsatisfied." He's pouting now, although he really should have been used to this.

It's always going to be the same script. She tries not to vomit while she's pulling her uniform back on and he's taking a sip of the kanaar left on the nightstand. He drinks and glares and she refuses to look in his direction, just like every other time. 

"Good."

When the door closes behind her he can still smell her on the sheets.


End file.
